


short bites

by suddenlyatiger



Series: hell, I'm just a kid myself [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (i don't care if his name doesn't come up in the fic), Babies, Gen, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Stilinski Family Feels, Teen Parent Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suddenlyatiger/pseuds/suddenlyatiger
Summary: Some parenting misadventures.
Series: hell, I'm just a kid myself [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799071
Comments: 18
Kudos: 172





	short bites

**Author's Note:**

> short little scenes that weren't long enough for their own fics

*** #1 ***

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" The sheriff asks, standing in the doorway of Noah's nursery.

"I've got it," Stiles says, gently placing Noah's wriggly body on the change table (making _very_ sure to cushion his tiny head as much as he can as he moves his hand away). "I am confident that I've mastered the diaper thing."

It's been a day, but the nurse at the hospital had given Stiles a somewhat encouraging smile before she'd let him take the baby home earlier. He'd had plenty of practice under her hawk-like gaze; he's pretty sure he's got this.

Noah starts fussing louder as soon as Stiles has set him fully on the change table and Stiles waves his hands around in mild panic.

"Don't worry!" He exclaims, though he's pretty sure the baby absolutely isn't listening to him. "I've got everything under control!" He grabs a fresh diaper from a basket on one of the table's shelves and manages to take an extra three or four with it, which all fall to the floor.

"Oops," he says.

"Don't worry about it," the sheriff says. "The floor is clean, you'll get them later." Stiles manages to quickly gather all the necessary supplies without further incident, and then turns his attention to the baby. Moving quickly, he unsnaps the baby's sleeper, which seems to irritate Noah more and he starts making crying noises.

"Wait! Don't cry," Stiles pleads. "I'll be quick!"

"Take your time," the sheriff pipes up from the doorway. "He's a little cold now and he doesn't like that, but it's not hurting him. Don't rush, and make sure everything is put on properly."

"Right, right," Stiles mumbles. He finishes unsnapping the sleeper and gently pulls Noah's legs free. They immediately curl up and Stiles has to maneuver them a bit so he can get the diaper open.

"Don't forget--"

"ACK!" Stiles instantly recoils as an arc of pee sprays from between Noah's legs and hits Stiles in the chest. After the initial shock, Stiles stems the flow with the clean diaper he'd meant to change Noah into. He can hear the sheriff trying to smother laughter behind him. Noah starts crying.

"He already peed!" Stiles exclaims, glaring down at the wet patch on his shirt. "I am literally trying to change a _wet diaper_! How can he need to go again!?"

"It's just the shock of the sudden cold on his, er, privates," the sheriff offers, still chuckling.

Stiles turns a glare on him. The sheriff just grins.

*** #2 ***

Stiles is halfway to Scott's house when his cellphone goes off. He pulls into a random driveway to answer it, precious cargo and all that. He arches an eyebrow at the sheriff's name on the caller ID.

"Dad?" He asks, accepting the call.

"Morning, Stiles," the sheriff says. "Where are you?"

"... I'm almost at Scott's," Stiles answers. The sheriff should know this, he'd returned Stiles' goodbye less than five minutes ago. Also where else would he be at this hour on a school day. "Whyyyy?"

"Figured I'd remind you that I have to work today and can't babysit," the sheriff says.

"I know." Stiles blinks. "Why--" He glances quickly in the rear-view mirror, then does a double-take.

The back seat is empty.

"Fuck!" Stiles exclaims and slams the Jeep in reverse.

"Stiles!" the sheriff exclaims. "It's alright! He's fine!" Stiles throws the phone on the passenger seat without ending the call and speeds down the street, swearing the whole way.

He's back at home in what seems like seconds and he barely remembers to park the Jeep before he launches himself out and up the driveway to the front door. The sheriff is there to meet him, still trying to calm him down, but Stiles can barely hear him over the rush of blood in his ears.

He quickly spots Noah, fast asleep in his car seat sitting on the floor near the door where Stiles had put him before _completely forgetting about him oh my god!_

"Stiles!" The sheriff grabs Stiles by both shoulders and gives him a shake, finally getting his attention. "Stiles. Calm. Down. Noah is fine."

"But--"

"He's. Fine. I was still here, he was safe in the car seat, no harm done."

But Stiles' mind whirls into the various possibilities of what could have happened. His breath catches and tears start rolling down his cheeks.

He cannot _believe_ what he's just done.

"Okay, let's go sit down a minute," the sheriff says. He grabs Noah's car seat with one hand and slings an arm around Stiles' shoulders to guide him to the living room couch. He pushes Stiles down on the couch and sets the car seat on the floor in front of them. Stiles immediately unbuckles Noah and pulls him into his arms. This, of course, wakes the baby, who complains at the sudden handling but settles fairly quickly in Stiles' arms.

Stiles himself isn't so easily consolable.

Putting Noah in his car seat and then in the Jeep in the mornings has been part of his routine for the past couple of weeks. There's literally no reason why he should've forgotten him today. Or at all.

The familiar doubt starts to creep in. Of whether it wouldn't have been better to place Noah for adoption after all. Surely he'd be better off with parents who could remember to put him in the car when they left the house in the morning.

Was this something that was worthy of a call to CPS?

"Stiles. Breathe."

Stiles sucks in a deep breath and leans back into the couch, cradling Noah against his chest.

"I can't... I didn't..." Stiles stammers.

"Stiles, listen to me when I say that this wasn't a big deal," the sheriff says, voice low. He's dressed in his uniform, including his jacket. He must've been on his way out when he'd noticed Noah still there on the floor. Stiles is making him late for work right now. He'll make Scott late for school at this rate.

"But it could've been," Stiles says, trying to wipe his wet cheeks on his shoulder. "What kind of parent just _forgets_ their kid at home?"

"It's a mistake that most parents make eventually," the sheriff says. "Hell, your mother forgot you in the car once when you were a baby. Went grocery shopping and almost made it to the door of the store before she remembered you and ran back. Her reaction then was a lot like yours now, actually, but it was all fine in the end." Stiles arches his eyebrows in surprise; he's never heard this story before.

"Really?" He asks.

"Yeah," the sheriff says. "It was the only time she'd done something like that. We could laugh a bit about it later, but she was pretty shook up about it at the time. And once I even forgot to bring you into the house from the car, but I remembered almost right away when I went to take you out of the car seat and realized the car seat wasn't there. It's something that happens to most parents at least once. And most of the time it's resolved quickly."

Stiles doesn't respond.

The whole event has ended up being a non-issue – Noah is completely fine – but Stiles isn't sure he'll ever forgive himself for this.

*** #3 ***

Noah, sitting in a bounce seat on Stiles' bedroom floor, watches Stiles as he frowns at his Chemistry homework.

Stiles isn't entirely sure that Harris isn't fucking with him with these handouts since they make little to no sense. He's fairly sure the problems are somehow out of order. He grabs his phone to text Scott to ask him about them. Stiles isn't a Chemistry genius, or anything, but he's good enough in the class that these handouts should make some sense to him.

**To: ScottBro**

_What your chem handouts look like???_

**From: ScottBro**

_Chem stuff, I dunno, y?_

**To: ScottBro**

_Pics plz_

**From: ScottBro**

_[attachment: image]_

"I fucking knew it," Stiles mutters, comparing Scott's pictures to Stiles' own handouts. His handouts are completely different. Scott's are totally normal. He frowns between the two images, wondering if it would be worth it to bring it up with anyone.

Probably not.

Noah suddenly lets out a loud squeal and kicks his legs out. Stiles watches as one tiny foot connects solidly with the top of an open water bottle that Stiles had been drinking out of earlier and forgotten about. The water bottle, about three-quarters full, tips over and spills onto Stiles' chemistry handouts.

The water slowly seeps into the pages, thoroughly ruining them.

"You know," Stiles says. "I ain't even mad." He jiggles Noah's foot and the baby laughs.

Harris probably won't accept a 'my baby drowned my homework' excuse. But fuck him, seriously.

*** #4 ***

"I have returned!" Stiles announces as he throws open the front door. "Also I ran into Angie from the diner and she mentioned something about seeing you there pretty often even though I know we already talked about that."

"I admit to nothing," the sheriff says. "Did you get the right salsa?"

"Of course," Stiles says. He walks into the kitchen and hands his father a bag of groceries. Noah, sitting in his highchair, lights up at the sight of Stiles and starts bouncing and waving his arms.

"Someone missed you," the sheriff says, rummaging through the bag.

"Hey, Tiny Pants!" Stiles exclaims, sliding over to Noah and removing him from the highchair with exaggerated motions. Noah squeals and babbles at him. He'd been down for a nap when Stiles had left to go to the store earlier, so now he's wide-eyed and well-rested.

Stiles makes airplane noises with his mouth as he 'zooms' Noah around in the air. Noah squeals and shrieks in delight, drowning out whatever the sheriff is saying.

"What's that?" Stiles asks.

"I said--"

"ACK!"

"… he just ate."

Just formula, Stiles guesses, judging from the liquid now spattered on his face and running down his neck. Noah is still giggling, spit-up smeared around his mouth.

A suspicious sounding cough comes from the sheriff's direction.

"Lovely," Stiles mutters.

Noah hiccups.

***

***


End file.
